Touch II
by blocked-in
Summary: According to everyone else, they don't say it enough. That's a lie, though. Because they say it every time they touch. [Future fic. One shot.]


**This is the Hemlock Grove version of the Teen Wolf story I have by the same name. There are small differences between the two. If you're a Teen Wolf Sterek shipper, you should check out the other version as well. This is the same deal as the Unquiet Hands epilogue where I couldn't decide which I liked more so I'm posting both.**

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According to everyone else, they don't say it enough. In fact, they almost never say it. Sure, there's the occasional slip in a desperate situation (when everything seems to be falling apart and the only thing they're sure about, the only thing they can ever be sure about, is each other), or when the world is bearing down on them (when they're standing at the precipice of something terrifying and the calm before the storm is settling deep in their guts and they feel like they should say it, should put it out in the open just in case they don't get another chance). But, really, other than that, it doesn't come out.

That's a lie, though. Because they say it all the time. They're always saying it. Maybe not out loud, but neither of them have ever really been good at words (well, one of them just doesn't have a lot to say and the other tends toward douchebaggery every time he opens his mouth). They don't need to say it out loud. And just because people can't hear it doesn't mean it's not there. The truth is, they say it more in a single day than most people do in an entire lifetime.

Because they say it in every touch. It's in the gentle hand resting in the small of a back for the briefest moments as they pass each other in the tight hallway ("Why the hell is this hallway so fucking small? This place is huge." "Maybe you're getting fat." "You're fucking hilarious."). It's in the countless, feather-light touches to the neck, the hair, the back of the hand. It's in every caress when everything is dark and they just need to be sure someone else is there; it's in every pinch and prod and push when they're lying in bed at night trying to make room for themselves without moving too far away from each other; it's in every single breath they gasp over each other's skin when there really are just no words to say.

It's difficult to pinpoint the exact moment they realized it. It's even harder to recall a time when they barely touched at all, only the occasional brush of finger tips as they passed a cigarette between them. It's nearly impossible to find the point in time when the touches went from acknowledgements of the other's presence to silent secrets slipped to each other throughout the day. Neither spend too much time thinking about it, because that time has passed and this is where they are now and if they think too long, they might miss something the other has said. They spend even less time trying to explain it. In fact, they don't, really. They never bothered. No one else would understand and, frankly, neither of them want anyone to try to understand. It would annoy the hell out of both of them.

Lynda doesn't believe him, Peter thinks, whenever he stutters out the words in a hesitant sort of way that barely sounds convincing to him. He wants to tell her all about it sometimes, but she would only smile gently and nod and still not believe him fully (he's spent too many years growing away from her and into Roman that there's a disconnect and it hurts but it's there all the same and she just doesn't quite get him anymore). Roman doesn't have that problem. Of course he doesn't. Because Shelley knew all along; Shelley knew before either of them did. And she's probably the only person in the world who understands what they're saying every time they touch because she and Roman had been speaking that very same language her entire life. Still, Peter doesn't envy Roman for that. While he would like his mother to see the truth in his words, he knows he wouldn't if he were in her shoes. Because she had a lot of words for him, and he would always have some for her. And they did say it out loud.

There would never come a time when he and Roman would need to speak the words in non-life-threatening situations. There would never come a time when they would want to. They've both been hurt too many times, and they've both felt the worst of what life has to offer. Their hearts can only hold so much. So when they need to let it out, they reach for each other and paint the words _I love you_ into whatever skin they can find.


End file.
